September 12, 2009

2 going on 32

Monkey bear, at the ripe old age of 2, is becoming an adult.  She has decided to call me “Mom” with a special emphasis on the last ‘m’ as if she’s letting me know that she no longer needs me.  She is clearly all grown up.  Monkey bear talks in full sentences using such words as “probably” and “actually” usually with a hand on her hip and the other one flying about in the air.  She insists upon eating everything with a fork and spoon - even grapes - and requires a napkin to dab at her mouth.

Just the other day, monkey bear informed me that there is a little baby in her big belly.  Her babies go with her everywhere and she takes care of them nonstop.  Feeding, bathing, changing diapers, and doing exercises… just like Mom does with my buddy.  She holds them ever so gently in her arms while shushing them and rocking side to side.  I can picture her 3 feet taller doing the exact same thing many years from now.

I have taken care of many toddlers and none of them have been quite like monkey bear.  Perhaps she knows how many gray hairs she gave me as an infant and is making up for it now.  I can leave monkey bear alone in a room with a box full of crayons and some paper and she will only draw on the paper.  When she wakes up, she calls my name and patiently waits in her bed for me to come and get her.  Give that girl a rule and she will follow it.

Some days I wonder if I had something to do with how she is turning out… then I get a look at my buddy.  Already he has pulled lamps over, gotten into every shelf he can reach- books, puzzles, desk items- eaten shoes,  eaten paper, and tormented the cats in general.  I see many years of trouble ahead of me, but at least monkey bear will be there letting me know a rule is being broken.

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